"There's no place like home...There's no place like home...There's no place like home!" Help me I've been sucked up in a funnel cloud and can't get out! Have you ever been so consumed when busy becomes blown out of proportion by stress, health issues, family responsibilities, kid's sports,church, community and even weather that you feel like you've been flushed? You name it, and I'll guarantee it's got its claws in me right now. I want so bad to write, but there's no time except when I've no longer got anything to give. I'm about to yell Kalgon take me away! ...for crying out loud. Not sure I spelled that right, but any of you old enough to remember the commercial know how desperate that makes me. It's been three weeks since my last blog post, not because I have nothing to say, more because I don't want to bore you with senseless dribble, which is about all I would have been able to manage.
I tell you what's nice though, ...is where I live. My most favorite time of the year is fall, and it's here, and for a bonus, my home is located on August Street and out my front window is a mountain painted with a fierce array of color. The morning air takes my breath away, football is in full swing, and I have the greatest family I could ever hope for to bless my life.
Once or twice a week I manage a few minutes to work on my second novel. I've had the manuscript finished for two years now, but haven't yet gotten it to where I'm completely satisfied with it. Now, just when I thought all I had left was to tighten it up a bit, I've been flooded with ideas that will enhance its feel, but not having the time to get them down is killing me. I'm praying for tons of snow, bury us neck deep so the only things left for me to do are plow, sleep and write.
Search For Yesterday is doing well, ...I think. I don't really know how to gauge it, but I still get the occasional blog order, and run into people here and there who have bought elsewhere and read it. I do about three signing events a month which is nice as I'm able to become acquainted with readers. I really should stop complaining huh, and count myself blessed just to be able to have such a cool opportunity, but my impatience is a proving to be a problem. I've decided to get an agent, and see if him/her pitching my work to some bigger publishers might move this wheel along a little more to my liking. If you know anybody good, I'd love to hear from you. I'll be querying, (submitting samples of my manuscripts) to as many credible agents as I can in the next month and then wait to see what happens, cross your fingers for me please.
Sorry, time's up, ...my football coaching duties are calling. Thanks for following me, I hope you're all well as the holiday season nears.
Sunday, October 9, 2011
"I don't know, ...he's old, but he looks like he's getting along ok," I replied.
"His stuff's gonna fall out of that bag I think," Andrew returned, "...we should see if we can help him." Having already lost my morning to the "all time consuming" involvement in Andrew's football team, I grumbled silently, not sure what more I was willing to give at the moment, but my little boy's eyes held steady, piercing mine and reaching all the way into my reluctant heart. Before I realized what I was doing, I was turning the car from traffic and into an abandoned convenience store parking lot.
"What are we gonna do Dad?" Andrew's eyes beamed, "...are we gonna help him?"
"Call to him and ask if he needs some help."
"Hey Man!" he called from where he hung out the window, "...can we help you?" I was surprised by Andrew's uncharacteristic candor, he's normally overly reserved when it comes to strangers, but he seemed free of reservation as he addressed the old man and waited his response. Finding a bill in my wallet, I tapped Andrew's hip, which apart from his legs and feet was the only part of him still inside the car. Glancing back he took the money and immediately held it out toward the approaching man.
"You're very kind young man," the stranger said, taking his offering and leaning to peer into the window at me. "Thank you sir," his eyes glistened complimenting a pleasant smile, "...you have a fine boy." He patted Andrew's head and turned away. For a long moment, I stayed, watching him go and contemplating what had just happened. The sound of Andrew's questioning voice brought me back to reality, as while tapping me on the shoulder he asked anxiously...,
"Is that doing our duty Dad?" That's when it all made sense to me. You see, recently I was asked to lead a den of beginning Cub Scouts, and in our first meeting during the week, Andrew had learned the Cub Scout Promise. "I promise to do my best, to do my duty, to God and my country. To help other people and to obey the law of the pack."
Less than an hour earlier, when responding to an irritated coach in defense of his not making a false start call when several players on the line shifted prematurely, a game official yelled back...,
"Come on coach? They're only eight years old, ...what do you expect?"